


vampires will never hurt you

by howellesterfics



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, Drinking, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Making Out, Party, dans sexy emo costume, too much dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27227494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howellesterfics/pseuds/howellesterfics
Summary: Dan is embarrassed by his mistake of a Halloween costume, but not everybody has such negative feelings towards it.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	vampires will never hurt you

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to everyone that would love to be getting drunk and being stupid with friends this halloween but have been nerfed by the rona. this is how im coping with that - putting dan in compromising outfits in my brain. that sounds worse now that i've typed it out..... anyways um enjoy. and ignore my mcr title i know its 2020

It barely counts as a costume – an inside joke between casual drinking friends, and a questionable trip to the thrift store is all it really is. Dan knew he wouldn’t feel all too comfortable in the clothes, especially the fishnets. 

It isn’t about comfort, though. It’s Halloween, and he wants to be dumb and dress up and black out in the woods with people that don’t really know him. They’ve only accepted Dan into their friend group this year, and he’s hardly been forthcoming about his real personality and interests so far. It’s safer to do what he always does, which is carefully pick and choose parts of himself to put on show until he knows that he isn’t going to be beat up. 

Picking and choosing hasn’t always saved him from the harassment, but these friends seem different. Better. They might not fully accept him for who he is, but they don’t make gay jokes or let the local psychopath threaten to set his tent alight at music festivals. 

They do, however, make him wait in the fucking freezing cold driveway of his house for far too long. To make things worse, he’s stood at the end of his road in black converse, fishnets, black ripped shorts, and an array of rubber bracelets stacked up his arm. He found an old Hot Topic tee in the back of his closet that he forgot he owned. There’s even a line of black makeup carefully drawn across his bottom lashes. It seemed funny during the entire planning of the costume, but now he’s outside in the dark, alone, looking every bit like some sort of queer. The sharp wind is whipping his fringe around his face, messing it up despite the copious amounts of hairspray that had been weighing it down. Dan sends a quick message to Joe, his fingers shaking against the screen.

**M8. im going to get my ass kicked. Where r u**

He waits two, three minutes. Joe doesn’t respond. Dan adjusts his fake lip piercing and tries not to let himself feel afraid of the threat of violence or of the dark and trees surrounding him. There’s a light on outside of his house, but its yellow glow is more ominous than comforting. It’s tempting to just go back inside and pretend to be ill, but he also doesn’t feel like facing his family dressed like this. 

Just as he’s about to send another frantic text, headlights turn around the corner and approach him. He feels exposed when the bright lights shine on him like a spotlight and he’s reminded again just how stupid he looks. There are holes torn in his fishnets and a black fingerless glove on one hand. It’s clear that too much effort went into this. He had too much fun with it, let himself get lost in the costume design. He forgot that it isn’t something that a ‘normal’ guy would do. 

Joe rolls his car window down and does a wolf whistle that makes Dan wince. 

“You actually did it!” He yells. 

Dan laughs and pries open the back door, giving a short wave to Joe’s girlfriend Sofie in the passenger seat. 

“Yeah, guess I did.” 

The smile that was starting to grow on his face drops whenever he realizes that there’s people already in the backseat. Another of his friends, Mark, and a stranger. The guy he doesn’t recognize is in the middle seat, his long legs causing his knees to be comically bent up against his chest. Dan feels his face flush as he climbs into the seat and buckles his belt. Even in the dark, it’s hard not to stare at his own legs through the fabric of his fishnets. 

He hadn’t thought about the fact that there might be other people joining them for their little Halloween celebration. He can’t even bring himself to look over and make eye contact with the new guy. 

“Oh, Phil, you’ll love this. Dan, tell him what you’re dressed as,” Mark says. 

His voice suggests he might already be a few beers in; that theory is basically confirmed when he reaches across the guy (apparently Phil), to tug at Dan’s fake nose ring. It doesn’t come out, but it makes Dan splutter out a little laugh as he readjusts it. He risks a glance at Phil to find him waiting with a kind smile. His nerves settle a bit. 

“A sexy emo.” 

“Oh! I like that. I thought you were just infinitely cooler than the rest of us,” Phil says. 

Now that Dan feels allowed to look, he sees that Phil is wearing a pair of basic cat ears and tiny whiskers drawn onto his face. It’s like he wanted to wear a costume but committed to it as little as possible. 

“I resent that,” Mark says. 

Him and Joe are boring, dressed as usual, and Sofie has an all-red outfit and a pair of devil horns. Her makeup is smoky and cool, and Dan thinks that maybe he should be somewhat attracted to her right now. He tries halfheartedly to conjure up a reaction but comes up woefully blank. 

“No, not cool by any means. I swear I’m not usually in makeup and women’s shorts.” 

Phil laughs and pulls his knees a little closer to his chest. It makes him look small, like he’s curled up because he wants to be, as opposed to just being too tall for the car. 

“It suits you.” 

“Keep it in your pants Lester. Dan doesn’t roll like that,” Mark says. 

He’s definitely not sober. Dan feels his stomach clench up with anxiety, his fingers twitching against the stupid fucking tights that are a little too snug around his thighs. The worst part is that he makes the mistake of looking back at Phil again and sees him do the most miniscule flinch ever, just a flicker of discomfort across his face before his expression goes blank. Mark isn’t a bad person, but Dan kind of wants to kick him in that moment. 

He crosses his hands over his lap and stares out the window instead. The small winding roads leading to their spot in the woods are familiar enough to take his mind off the look on Phil’s face, and eventually Sofie shoves a CD into the player so the music washes away any traces of conversation. 

-

When they finally arrive, Dan realizes that there’s even more people that he doesn’t know. It’s his entire friend group from school plus ten or so more people from the next town over. The number of unfamiliar faces makes him want to get drunk as soon as possible. Joe had gotten generous with his parents’ seemingly endless wallets and supplied most of the booze. There are cases of beer laid out on a blanket on the grass, and multiple bottles of vodka and rum. 

Joe and Mark sit on the ground and mix drinks for people for a while, handing out cups that will inevitably be scattered all over the ground by morning. Dan gets his cup and sprawls out next to them, sipping at his lukewarm rum and coke and pretending that the grass isn’t itching his bare skin. It’s still cold out, but by the time he finishes his first drink his body is warmed by the rum. He laughs along with Mark about random bullshit and watches the newcomers as they come over for drinks. 

Most of them seem to already know each other and all of Dan’s friends. It makes him feel a little left out, but he knows he hasn’t been part of their group for long. It doesn’t automatically mean that they all hang out without him and make fun of him. Probably. Fuck, he needs another drink. 

-

He’s three cups of rum and coke and two shots of vodka into the night. 

He doesn’t remember anything of note happening so far, despite being an hour and a half into their little makeshift party. There’s cheesy Halloween music playing on someone’s portable speakers and a group huddled around a small bonfire playing drinking games. Dan’s head is too woozy for games with all the laddish boys so he’s standing with a few girls now as they gush over his costume. 

One girl from out of town asks him to do a little spin for them, and he does so very ungracefully. She’s giggling and holding onto his arm as if she could stop him from falling over. Her eyes are round and brown, and Dan once again tries to feel something. Anything. When she steps in closer to inspect his fake piercings and her breasts briefly press against Dan’s arm, he only wants to take a step back in response. He’s spiraling at this point. 

“I think it’s cool that you actually wore a costume. Boys are too afraid to have fun these days,” she says. 

Dan thinks her name might be Mia. Or Tia. Something like that. She’s a bit of a goth. 

“It’s actually kind of hot that you don’t feel the need to be super macho or masculine. Makes you look confident or summat.” 

He sees two of the girls behind her nod in agreement. Even though the words are meant to be nice and reassuring, it doesn’t really comfort him. He’s been getting odd looks from the blokes all night, and he knows that they don’t feel the same way. It’s a joke to them. It was supposed to be a joke to Dan, too, but people keep reading it as something else. They see him dressed like this and see a hint of truth behind it. A reminder that he used to get punched every day in the hallways while they all silently witnessed it. 

He hates that they all know about that. He hates that he didn’t just do the normal thing and wear jeans and a shirt. 

“It’s just a costume. We’ve been joking about it for weeks.” 

“Well, still. I like it,” Mia or Tia says. 

This would probably be considered flirting if Dan could muster up the ability to speak. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to. He sees Phil approaching from the bonfire, stumbling over his own feet a little. Definitely drunk. When he’s close enough, Dan sees that his whiskers are smudged across his cheek, and he’s smiling like an idiot. 

“Mia! They want you to go play truth or dare. Ian says he saved you lot a spot,” he says. 

Even though Mia had just been all up on him, her eyes light up at the sound of Ian’s name and the girls run off towards the firepit without a second thought. Dan wonders if Ian is the particularly fit one he had noticed earlier. He doesn’t linger on it too long because Phil is still here. With him. Alone. They look at each other, eyes flitting up and down, and they both speak at the same time. 

Phil laughs and nods his head. 

“You go first.” 

“Sorry. For earlier. Mark’s a dick,” Dan says. 

He has to acknowledge it, for Phil’s sake. It wouldn’t be fair to let him assume that Dan is okay with those kinds of jokes. 

“Oh. Yeah, that’s okay. I’ve known Mark for a while, I don’t think he gets it. Being gay, I mean. Sorry if I made him think you were-“ 

“No, no. You didn’t – I’m not –“ Dan stumbles over his words, heart beating fast. 

He didn’t think he would hear Phil openly say that word so easily. It was like nothing. No glances over his shoulder or sly euphemisms to avoid the truth. 

“I know. You don’t have to defend your heterosexuality to me.” 

Heterosexual. For some reason that’s so much worse, being told for the second time in one night that he’s straight. He wants to pull out his hair. He wants to let his eyes water with the frustration he’s feeling, but then his stupid fucking eyeliner would run. He stares at Phil for so long that Phil starts to leave, probably bewildered at their conversation. He’s walking away, and Dan really doesn’t want to be left alone. 

“Phil.” 

“Yeah?” 

He turns back around, and his pale eyes are shiny in the moonlight. There’s a distant cheer from the bonfire, probably in response to a scandalous dare or a kiss or whatever the hell they were getting up to. 

“I’m not going to defend my heterosexuality to you,” is what he manages to say. It’s not an admission, but it’s pretty fucking close. 

“Okay. Are you okay? You seem upset.” 

“I don’t think I like this party.” 

“Yeah, me either. Too drunk to leave, though.” 

“We could take a walk.”

-

They end up on a well-worn path, rocks being kicked underfoot as they go. Dan only knows of the path’s existence from past drunken excursions, but he tries not to think about that. The similarities bounce around in his brain, still. When they pass by the tree that witnessed his first kiss with a boy, he gets the same thrill that he did that night. He remembers strong hands against his waist and a thigh between his legs. He remembers the bark scratching against his back, the way that it stung when he showered that night. He was barely coherent that evening, but the scratches served as a reminder the next day. 

Now that Phil is here with him, walking so close that their hands might collide, he can’t help but imagine. 

“Do you think anyone has noticed we’re gone?” 

“No,” Phil laughs. 

His cheeks are reddened by the wind and booze, and even in the dark Dan can see that his lips are soft and pink. 

“I don’t care if they notice. I was a freakshow back there.” 

“It’s Halloween, Dan. You’re meant to dress up. No one is noticing it unless they’re checking you out.” 

He thinks back to Mia and her touchiness, the way he was completely unaffected by it. 

“Yeah, well. None of the right people are checking me out.” 

“I wouldn’t say that. I’ve seen a lot of people look at you tonight, and not in bad ways.” 

Phil’s eyebrow is raised suggestively, but Dan can only focus on the fact that Phil must have been paying attention to him to notice that. He takes a long swig of the beer that he took from the party and sighs. They’ve almost reached the clearing at the end of the path, a quiet pond with a set of old wooden benches around it. Dan can’t wait to sit down and let the swirling in his head spiral down through his body and into his feet. The threat of tripping is his only current grip on reality. 

“Keeping tabs on me?” 

“Not in a creepy way. Mind the fact that you’re literally luring me into the woods right now. This could be where I die. Phil Lester: may his soul rest in peace. He died doing what he loved.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Admiring pretty boys?” 

“Shut up,” Dan snorts. 

He’s sure that he looks like a maniac, so warm that his neck and chest have probably gone red. He breaks out in fucking hives at the thought of Phil finding him attractive, apparently. 

“Make me.” 

“You know that line only works in movies, right?” 

The pond is in sight now, and in an effort not to grab Phil by the shirt and disprove his own point, Dan takes off in a sprint to one of the benches. It creaks when he collapses down onto it, and he rubs his fingers against the armrest where his name is carved into the wood. It's practically covered in crass carvings and the initials of lovers who probably broke up two weeks later. His head lolls back so that he’s staring up at the stars, brighter here than what he’s used to at home. They almost seem to blink back down at him, going in and out of focus. It would be a beautiful and awe-inspiring moment if the running hadn’t sloshed around the contents of his stomach. 

He counts down from ten in his head to try to lessen the nausea, but it barrels right back into him when Phil’s head pops into his line of vision, scaring the absolute shit out of him. 

“Fuck!” He yelps, limbs flailing out as if to protect himself. 

Phil laughs like the sadistic little bitch he’s turning out to be and takes a seat next to him. Their thighs are touching. 

“If this were a movie, it’d be a horror one. We’d be the first to die, too,” Phil says. 

His voice is a little too chipper for the subject matter. 

“Why’s that?” 

“Teens always die in scary movies when they’re trying to get up to sexy stuff in the woods. And anyone who’s not white and straight are usually first on the list.” 

“You sound awfully confident about the sexy stuff. You’re going to turn me off of it though if you keep insisting that we’re gonna get hacked to death.” 

Phil laughs in such a genuine way that it’s bound to give Dan an inflated ego. He turns to look at him and Phil is looking out towards the pond, where the moonlight is shining off the still water and making it appear black and inky. The sounds of the party can no longer be heard, just their quiet breathing and the occasional cricket chirp or buzzing insect. Phil’s profile makes his nose look like a beak, and his eyelids keep fluttering as if he’s going to fall asleep. That really wouldn’t be great, having to haul this six-foot-something, vaguely emo, drunken stranger back to the field. 

Dan snaps his fingers next to Phil’s ear. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah. No. Probably not gonna get hacked. Might get eaten by wolves though.” 

“Come on man, be more festive than that. What about vampires?” 

“Maybe I’m a vampire,” Phil says. 

It wouldn’t be far from the truth, with his box-dyed black hair and questionably fair skin. He looks more fit for the role than half of the Twilight cast, Dan thinks nonsensically. And then he immediately hates himself for being intrigued with the mental imagery flashing through his head. The longer the night stretches on, the more he feels his last shreds of heterosexuality wilting away, dying off. Would it be so bad if this is what he gets in return? Dorky boys with high cheekbones and an Adam’s apple so prominent that Dan kind of wants to sink his teeth into it? 

Maybe it means nothing, and he’s just so starved of affection that any human with a pulse would make him feel all disgusting and soppy inside. He debates it for so long that the conversation dies out. 

Phil is stretching his legs out, the long skinny jeans cutting off short enough that his ankles are on show. It shouldn’t be an attractive bit of flesh. 

“If you were a vampire, this would be the perfect opportunity to strike.” 

Dan closes his eyes because he’s not sure if Phil is even listening anymore. Something about the cool weather and the rum in their bloodstreams have had a more soothing affect rather than making them loud and obnoxious. He isn’t going to sleep out here because it would be dangerous and stupid, but he will let himself rest. Or at least he plans to, before he feels the ticklish sensation of hair against his cheek. He opens his eyes right as there’s a nick of teeth at his neck. 

The realization that it’s a joke only occurs after he’s already gasped and grabbed a fistful of the hair on the back of Phil’s alien-shaped head. Phil pulls away quick, looking sheepish. 

“Sorry. Stupid joke. I’m not great at personal space.” 

Dan clears his throat. Blinks a few times and prays that he isn’t about to sound like the word’s biggest twat. 

“You can get back into my personal space. If you want.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Please.” 

There’s another flash of sober hesitation across Phil’s face, but then he grins and pats his leg. 

“Awkward from the side, if you want you can just-“ 

“Yeah, sure.” Dan’s voice does an embarrassing crack, but he tries to make up for it by climbing onto Phil’s lap without stumbling too much. 

It makes him feel a lot of things, but the starkest emotion is bravery. It feels brave to straddle him like this, let alone in his current wardrobe. There’s something scandalous about seeing his own fishnet-clad legs in this context, and it becomes so much more intense when Phil seems to notice at the same time and drags his fingertips across the cheap material. 

“I really do like your costume.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Make me,” Phil mocks, gripping on tighter to his thighs. 

It sends a rush down Dan’s spine, even though it’s said playfully. He leans forward and butts his forehead against Phil’s shoulder. 

“You were a lot cooler when you were playing into the whole vampire thing.” 

“I think you just have a weird neck thing,” Phil says. 

Nevertheless, he maneuvers them both so that he can get his mouth on Dan’s skin again. It feels like heaven. It sends warmth down his trunk, flowing into his legs and arms and places he’d rather not acknowledge. The heat of Phil’s breath is almost better than the scrape of teeth, teasing and docile. The fact that it’s so gentle makes Dan want to squirm. 

“God, these shorts, too. I haven’t been able to stop looking at you.” 

Two of Phil’s fingers slip under the leg of his shorts and rest there. It’s getting harder to remain composed, but Dan tries. He tilts his head back and focuses on the wet lips dragging down the base of his neck. A peck, a bite, a flat tongue pressed against his pulse. He tries to express his feelings despite the jumbled mess called a brain floating around in his skull like an old computer screensaver. 

“Wanna do things to you.” 

_Wow, Dan,_ he thinks. _Very Sexy._

Phil pulls back and his lips are pink and shiny. It looks illegal. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t. You know? We’re drunk, and someone could see us, and-“ 

“Okay.” 

“Dan.” 

“Phil,” Dan mocks, smoothing over what must have been some visible disappointment. 

The last thing he wants to do is be the asshole that pressures people into shit. He pushes Phil’s hair off his forehead and plants a little kiss on it to show that he isn’t upset, despite what his dick is telling him. 

“Don’t think that I don’t want to. I could name like thirty-seven ways I want to get you off right now, I’m just trying to be responsible. They could be looking for us right now.” 

“Thirty-seven?” 

Phil does this ridiculous sweep of his eyes down Dan’s body, nearly going cross-eyed like the dork he very much is. 

“Thirty-eight, if I’m feeling generous.” 

“No one is going to come looking for us,” Dan says. 

Even as the words leave his mouth, he knows it’s probably not true. His friends do tend to be prying and prodding to a fault, and he knows nothing of the kids from the other school. Mark and Joe are aware of this path and Dan’s pre-occupation with it, too, without all the boy-kissing details. 

“Normally I would offer to sneak you into my bedroom window, but I don’t know where the hell I even am. Didn’t pay attention on the drive,” Phil says. 

His words are a little more slurred than previously, and his head keeps tipping back like he’s falling asleep before it snaps with a jolt each time. There are still hands slid under Dan’s shorts and he’s afraid to move in case he loses the warmth that they’re supplying to his cold, tense body. 

“You’re in Wokingham.” 

“You’re in my lap.” 

“I’d noticed. You should kiss me about it.” 

“We literally just went over this,” Phil whines, but leans forward anyways. 

Their kiss is uncoordinated and unpracticed, but Phil’s lips feel like heaven – as cheesy as it is to think. It gives Dan that rush again, this euphoric brave feeling in his gut that’s screaming at him _‘this is right! this is it!’_ over and over until he has to drown it out by deepening the kiss. He wants the phantom pressure on his mouth later, the physical reminder of tonight when Phil is long gone on the drive back to whatever Northern hell town he’s obviously from. His accent has gotten worse and worse as the night has progressed. 

Dan licks into his mouth in a way that would be gross if they were both sober, and Phil responds enthusiastically. He gets a hand on the back of Dan’s neck and basically crushes their faces together, only pulling away when their teeth knock in a painful way. 

“Fuckin’ hell. I’ll be at the dentist tomorrow,” Dan cackles. 

“Sorry. Sorry.” Phil doesn’t look very sorry; on the contrary there’s an annoying smug smile on his face that says anything but. 

“Let’s get you back to the party, horrible boy. You’re wasted," Dan says.

“I’m not.” 

“What town are you in?” 

“Something about ham.” 

-

They find themselves back at the party ten agonizing minutes later. They kept having to stop to counterbalance the swaying of the trees and the way the sky was tipping over, or for Dan to scratch at his newly forming bug bites. At some point Phil had even dry heaved next to some bushes and that was enough for Dan’s butterflies to be tamed – just a bit. 

They break through the line of trees at the front of the path to find the party had died down. The music is quietened and there are tents set up in a circle around the fire that has nearly flickered out of existence. Dan spots Mark and Joe just as they turn to see him, and there’s no time to separate from Phil or come up with a good reason to have been MIA for so long. He would be mortified if he had any mental energy left. 

Joe tries to hand him a beer as they approach, but he shakes his head vehemently. Phil tries to snatch it up instead, so Dan smacks his hand away too. 

“No. No more.” 

“You look like you’ve been through the bloody ringer, mate,” Mark says. 

He’s pointedly not looking Phil in the eyes, which makes Dan’s heart race a little faster. If they’ve already put two and two together- 

“Yeah, are you good? Your, uh, the shit on your eyes is all fucked up,” Joe supplies helpfully. 

Dan pushes hard to change the subject. 

“I’m fine. Where’s Sofie?” 

“Passed out in the tent, the right lightweight. Speaking of, where did you plan on sleeping Danny boy?” 

Joe’s alcohol tolerance, which has always been incredibly high and worrisome, is putting Dan on edge. He looks sober, despite probably having more drinks than anyone else here. He’s got this look on his face like he’s trying not to say something, the ends of his lips twisted upwards. 

“Fuck. Hadn’t thought that far. I can just camp out in your backseat if-“ 

“I’ve got a tent,” Phil butts in. 

Throughout the whole conversation he’s been stood quietly, swaying back and forth on his feet. His eyes are half open, the poor sod. 

“Ah, Phil has got a tent. We actually put it up for you,” Mark says. 

“Thanks, guys. I’d be rubbish at that. Probably stab myself with one of the … stick-thingies.” 

“So, Dan’s sleeping with you tonight?” 

This time the words definitely have the connotation of something more, it can’t just be Dan’s paranoid imagination. He stares down at his feet and shrugs. 

“Guess that’s alright.” 

“Yes!” Phil jostles him by the shoulder. It’s going to be a long night.

-

The night did drag on, but only for Dan. Once he’d stripped out of his accessories, left only with his shirt and shorts, he’d found Phil already collapsed on the floor of the tent half asleep. He tried his best to lay down in the small spot reserved for him, but sleep didn’t come until hours later. It was partly due to the whole gay fear thing and partly from his fear of bears and wolves and trees. Eventually he drifted off to the sound of Phil’s snores.

The next morning, he crawls out of the tent looking absolutely debauched. 

He can tell that his hair is a mess, and his clothes are wrinkled all to hell. It helps that everyone else is in a similar state. Many have begun to pack their things in a zombie-like hangover trance. 

Phil is still asleep and drooling while Dan tries to help clean up. Eventually he has all his stuff shoved into a bag and walks over to Joe’s car to toss it in. Sofie is in the passenger seat scrolling through her phone. 

“Morning, sleepy.” 

“Morning, Sofie.” 

“Did you sleep well? I was long gone before you ever got back last night. Where’d you run off to?” 

It’s an entire inquisition to Dan’s miniscule morning brain, which vibrates a little at the perceived accusation in the words. He hops into the backseat, fully prepared to tiptoe around this conversation. 

“We just- um, went for a walk. Got some air. It was just, like, you know. Social anxiety, all th-“ 

“Who’s we?” Sofie laughs. 

She’s way too pretty in the morning light for someone that supposedly blacked out last night. Her smile is soft and melodic, and it takes some of the edge off. Only some, though. Dan still wants to hit his head against the seat. 

“Phil. He’s – you know, we’re pretty similar. We get on.” 

“I thought you might.” 

Sofie turns around and looks at him in that same secretive way that Joe had the night before; a conspiracy, then. They’d put their grossly sweet couple brains together to figure out a way to break him. It all has to be premeditated, or fate, and Dan doesn’t believe in fate. 

“You know Phil well?” 

“Not as well as Mark and them. We’ve all played board games and shit together before. He seems your type.” 

For once, Dan can’t bring himself to deny it, to make a bold claim of his alleged heterosexuality. It would be weak and transparently false, and he can’t do that to Sofie and insult her intelligence like that. Instead he just sighs all dramatic and lays out across the backseat, knees bent up towards his chest. 

“Not an axe murderer or vampire or anything then?” 

“Not that I’m aware of, mate. I can give you his number if you’d like to find out.” 

“I hate you.” 

-

Three days later, Dan’s phone pings with a notification. His heart leaps up into his throat when he sees the name.

**Phil: you left your fishnets in the tent. im keeping them for personal reasons unless you go out on a date with me**

**Dan: pls don’t wank on my tights. or do. idk. regardless im a big fan of seasonal coffees**

**Phil: that’s not what I meant!! You are actually foul. It’s a date then.**

**Dan: sure it wasn't. see you soon, mister vampire man**


End file.
